Hall of Nightmares
by scarfairy92
Summary: Sirius comes to azkaban, and finds himself opposite Bellatrix's cell. Past memories and arguments are brought up over their 13 years together.
1. A place of residence

**Hall of nightmares**

Disclaimer: I obviously don't own any of these characters, and no-one would believe me if I said I did. I only wish that one day my own characters will be as big as these ones.

A/N: I want to apologise for two things; 1, my promise to update "Being controlled" before writing anything else. Ch 5 IS almost finished, and it's next to be updated. 2 is my misspelling in the A/N of free spirited: its exception not acception. Thanks for reading, and hope you enjoy this one.

Lily…

James…

Dead…

Pain floods me, a wrenching pain, pulling at my stomach tightly. I fall limp, caught by ice cold fingers on each arm. The pain intensifies, bringing back images of a burning house, and smoke makes me choke weakly. A baby screams. I run through the smoke, eyes stinging and tears running down my cheeks. I look up – Through the smoke it's harder to see the green symbol glittering in the pitch black sky.

Suddenly the image cuts out. A grey wall faces me, a bench the only thing you could call furniture. Behind me, a loud clang sounds. A ghostly trail turns the corner. It's cold, but unnaturally cold, as though someone had cast a spell over the place. Well, other than the security spells. Turning, a sullen face with dark eyes stares with hatred at me.

"Nice of you to drop in." She murmured quietly. There was no need to speak louder. Silence filled the corridor.

"I hope you don't mind – I expect I'll stay for quite a while."

"Always the witty one, weren't we, Sirius? You can never take anything seriously – not even prison."

"Well, it isn't really prison – more of a place of residence. It can't be much worse than Grimmauld Place, can it? Oh wait – you're going to be here all the time. Damn."

"Place of residence? You disgust me."

"Same to you, Mrs. Lestrange."

"Politeness and respect was always your finesse, Sirius. You never thought anything of the Black ancestors."

"Oh, because they were such respectable, honest and good-willed people."

"At least they weren't stupid enough to get caught."

I didn't bother replying. If the ministry didn't believe me, she wouldn't. I must've looked like a mad-man, laughing, actually amused with irony as the dementors dragged me away. I didn't have a hope in the world.

"So? Why're you here? I thought you said that you'd never be a true Black descendant."

Well she asked. It doesn't matter what she thinks anyway; it won't get me any closer to being out of here.

"And I keep to my word. I never did anything. You wouldn't understand. You were in here."

"Better than hiding out there like the traitors."

"Yeah, I'm sure you're having way more fun than they are."

"_At least I made the effort to find my master!_"

"Oh, well done! I'm sure your master will be so pleased to know you care, and that you're spending that time caring in prison. Because caring, Bella, is what Voldemort does look for in a follower." All the undertones of sarcasm that had hung off the conversation came shining through as loudly as Bellatrix's voice had done. She sat, unable to retort adequately, and stared with an unblinking hatred at me. Her eyes told another story though. A realisation, a shock. A fear. Fear burning in the heart of her dark pupils as she silently contemplated her fate.

She smirked.

"The traitors will be more highly punished. I kept my faith."

"Of course you did."

"You never know, I might make it out of here…I'd be the first, the mysterious escapee…then I can return, return to him…"

"Oh please, how can you be so desperate for someone like him? You don't understand, do you?"

"Don't understand what? How the most powerful, most-"

"Don't you dare praise him! He's a parasite, living off other people's pain, other people's suffering, other people's death! He's pointlessly killing all the righteous and trust-worthy people of this world! Don't even speak about him!"

I was on my feet unexpectedly, tears streaming down my face. Bella was sat silently on her bench, looking outraged and shocked at the same time. She was speechless. For once.

"Besides, you'll never get out of here," I said quietly. "It's a hopeless dream."

"But why not dream," she retorted gently, "in this hall of nightmares?"


	2. Memories and realisations

Night fell on Azkaban. Well, supposedly, since it got ever colder and a lot of the prisoners went to sleep, while a larger troop of Dementors drifted around the corridors. I can't tell what time it is in here. That night passed slowly, not allowing me to drift off. Put it down to a new environment.

Screaming. Constant screaming. Each one echoed along the bare corridors, ringing in my ears loudly, and then died away as though they'd given up. It wasn't worth the breath anymore. My eyes gave up distracting me from the noises around me – it wouldn't work. There was nothing to look at except the darkness. I closed my eyes, only to be struck by the glare of a luminescent figure. I'd never seen them like that before. They had energy, pleasure in this human hell hole. For them, this was the pinnacle. Heaven. They drifted enthusiastically, like collectors of terror. They looked almost healthy. It came up to my bars, knowing there was some kind of reward to gain here.

I see a road. My hair flicks around my face as I turn the corner. I look up, see a green shape in the sky, and my heart thumps harder. Not tonight. It's dark and quiet; it could almost be peaceful if I didn't know what had happened. I turn another corner smoothly on my motorbike, speeding toward the end of the road frantically. Skidding to a halt when confronted with muggle fire engines, I throw my bike to the floor and try to advance toward the house. Stinging, choking smoke, tears running down my face, and loss of breath. The baby's scream. No. Not Harry. What's he ever done, how could he be a danger? Desperation takes over, distracting me from the faint feeling taking me over. I'm held back by a fire fighter.

"No, sir, it's too dangerous!"

"I'm the godfather of the baby! Please!"

"I'm sorry, sir, you'll have to step to one side. We can't let you through."

I wait anxiously as the flames are doused. A large group of muggles are gathered behind me, some crying, others speculating at the large image in the sky. The fire fighters allow me, and only me, forward. The worst is yet to come. James and Lily's bodies on the ground, side by side. All breath leaves me, and yet more tears stream down my cheeks. I kneel down, taking in their faces for the last time. James' is full of determination, fear and anger. His wand is still in his cold hand, still lying there. I look at Lily, but her face is blurry for my tears. Wiping them away with my sleeve, I see a face torn with emotion, full of love and worry. A single fire fighter comes to take me away, and the two of them are covered with one, pure white sheet. The image blurs and fades.

My eyes form a grey wall illuminated by the eerie glow of a Dementor. My cheeks are soaking. My hands are shaking weakly. Slowly and cautiously I get up, pulling myself back on to the bench. I curl up, comforting myself, and look across at Bellatrix's cell. She's staring at me, a mixture of shock and sympathy on her face.

The screaming stopped in the morning. Bellatrix and I spent the rest of the night silently, trying to ignore what the victims said. It was pointless; it was the only thing you could possibly listen to. Eventually, my ears adjusted. Fear, pain became a background noise.

This was the rest of my life.

However long that lasted. This was….the end. My destiny, this place confirmed every idea I had wondered about as a child. Every question, every doubt about the reality of the wizarding world. Well, not the whole wizarding world; just the pure blood, judgemental part of it.

I realised a long time ago that I would never, and could never, escape it – whether it was my family, the ministry, it didn't matter, there was always too many of them to defeat. I tried. Merlin, I tried. I left home as soon as I could live for myself – it still wasn't enough. I wasn't free of the prejudice against me; the idea that I were a disowned Black seemed difficult for the pure bloods, where as muggle-borns tended to consider me higher, in someway superior to them. I was a grey sheep in a group of black and white. There was nowhere I was safe, that I could fit in.

Hogwarts. The only place I felt I truly fitted in with anyone. Obviously, nowhere was perfect; but in comparison it was amazing. I found out solitude wasn't the only place I could be happy, I found out that friends could be a benefit. They understood me, and protected me from the people who didn't. I understood them. I realised that I wasn't going to be alone. I just wish it had lasted longer. The close group of four who had stood through seven years of Lycanthrope, secrets and stress, and come out smiling was shattered. Left in pieces by death, betrayal and lies. We thought we'd made it through; we thought that life'd be easy after school.

Then the war began.

We were recruited, chosen for the order, and spent our days figuring out mysteries and patterns. Sure, it was dangerous; but we knew that although we were against them, we weren't anything special. Times were happy through the darkness; James married Lily, and Frank and Alice, another two members of the order from our year at Hogwarts, did the same. Both had children. Life came through death. I became a godfather for the first time, and a year past with our bonds unbroken. Then Peter began to withdraw from the group. We should have noticed his sick days, his less talkative attitude and his long sleeves in summer. He'd always been a coward; we never knew he'd go that far though.

Merlin, why did he do it?! Nothing could ever excuse him going that far. But we chose him. No. I chose him. No. I can't have…I…I…murdered the best friend I'd ever had. I am to blame. I should be here. I'm guilty. Why didn't I step up? Was I so afraid of dying? I saved my life that Peter might die. I was afraid. Afraid of death. Just as Voldemort is. But the person I chose to die lives, free, and now all I have of the one person I was trying to save is the memories.

Let the dementors have me, I don't deserve to live.

But then, neither does Wormtail.

And I won't let him defeat me. Not till the score is settled. I may have given him the device, but he used it. But he has no device now. No way of excusing himself and only limping rats form to hide behind. Vengeance will be a long time coming, but the longer it waits, the sweeter it gets.

So sweet I won't taste the bitter.


End file.
